All That I'm Living For
by japjen
Summary: AU. One shot that might possibly develop into a full blown story later. Ginny and Draco were together. After a fight, she pushed him away because he reminded her of Tom and she was scared.


Ginny was running again. It was nearing curfew, but she didn't care. She had to get away. She had let him go. She could not believe she'd let go of the man she loved, but she hadn't known what else to do. She had lied and told him she didn't care.

She hadn't let go, she'd driven him away.

That's why she was running. She had to get to the Room of Requirement. She would be able to find release there. But she had to get there soon if she was going to make it, if she was going to fight it.

And then she was there, pacing the hall three times, hoping and praying it wasn't in use. Then the door appeared and Ginny nearly cried with relief. She was going to be okay this time.

As she opened the door, it was just as she would need it to be. There was a beautiful black grand piano in the middle of the room, surrounded by a few low mahogany tables and multi-colored silk pillows. On the tables were scattered sheets of parchment. Most were blank, but on one table, the parchments had frenzied ink scratches. On another, the parchments were in fact score on which a melody was sketched out and tentative lyrics could be found. Ginny had finally found her release.

Ever since she had determined to quit cutting months ago, she had desperately sought a new release that would not end in her reverting back to the knife. She had found it in writing. She did her best, most effective writing at night. The night and the dark effortlessly provided her with the words she needed, piecing every thought together, expressing her pain perfectly.

There was no telling how many songs and poems she had written by now. For one, she tried not to reread her work because she learned early that it magnified the depression and the need to cut rather than to assuage it and help her forget the desire. Secondly, she never took them out of the Room of Requirement. It was too dangerous. Hermione, or worse, Harry or Ron might find them and realize she was near to drowning. With Hermione, she could at least claim she was still in love with Harry and felt like he was always spurning her. If Harry found out, he'd most definitely inform Ron, and if Ron found out, her parents would again try to make her go to St. Mungo's mental ward for counseling that they couldn't afford.

She was so near to drowning this time that she truly feared for her own life. Without Draco, after having known love and having given it up...no, pushing it away, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stay away from the knife much longer.

But not tonight. Tonight she would be okay. She had made it into the Room of Requirement.

Ginny sat down, at first, at the piano and began with a series of chord progressions, mostly just warming up her fingers. As she was playing, she began humming and picking out a tune. It was a slow, melancholy melody, one she had not sung before. Its slow, trembling notes expressed her pan and sorrow in a way that none of the poetry she'd written ever had.

The act of stroking this melody out from the depths of her soul granted her a soothing relief that cutting did not. She was expressing herself in a new way that eased the pain in her soul rather than merely overriding it with the physical pain she could control.

Yet, the fear that she would again resort to cutting would not dissipate because this place was the only place she could find this type of release. It was the only place that was safe for her to write. Anywhere else, and the danger of someone discovering the darkness she struggled with was too great.

Ginny continued playing the piano, and the song became darker, reflecting her fears and her pain. Her humming deepened into agonizing moans from the darkest corners of her soul, conveying her obsession with the dark, with the night.

She finally let a dissonant keen die off along with the music from the piano and was panting for breath. She knew that if she had not stopped soon, she would have become just as lost in the mournful music when she most needed to keep herself lucid.

When she caught her breath, she moved down to the floor to a table with blank parchments. With a few waves of her wand, staffs appeared and she penned a few notes on a sheet, recording a general feel for the song she had just created. She kept it basic, knowing that it was easier to recreate something like that arbitrarily. She expressed her true emotions better that way. So instead of trying to recall the exact notes she had sung, she merely wrote down the chord progressions she had used with a few notes to guide the melody just a little.

After doing that, she pushed the score away and reached for an untouched parchment. On this, she began scratching free verse. She knew it was the easiest form of poetry, and yet tonight it was all she could manage. Even the night would not help her find the words she needed for anything more. The pain she had caused herself by pushing Draco away was overwhelming all sense order in her mind at the moment. If free verse was all she could manage, then, for sanity's sake, it was what she would write tonight.

At this point, it was all Ginny could do to keep thoughts of her ghosts—now, both Tom and Draco—at bay.

She'd thought she would be able to love him, that he'd be able to love her. But their world would not, ­_could not_, allow it. No matter how much she tried to make him see, he was still firmly believed in the order of their world. She was right to let him go when she did.

But it hurt so deep in her soul.

­_I thought love wasn't supposed to hurt. Why do I feel like I do? Isn't there anything I can do to get away from these ghosts?_

All she knew to do was immerse herself in the art of words and hope that she could ignore the pain 'til morning light when she could lock away and ignore the pain for one more day.


End file.
